Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
In the sun born over and over,
I ran my heedless ways.

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

Don't be too harsh to these poems until they're typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction.

Dylan talked copiously, then stopped. 'Somebody's boring me,' he said, 'I think it's me.'

He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest.